A Supernatural Fairy Tale
by Casmoiraitiel
Summary: Garth calls Sam and Dean in to investigate unexplained magic in Maine. The boys soon find out that this is no ordinary magic, it's magic beyond anything they've ever experienced before. Warning:possible spoilers.
1. The Call

**A/N: I thought I'd try something a little different this time. :) Here's hoping you guys enjoy!**

**Warning: possible spoilers.**

**I own neither show, just the story.**

Dean Winchester, beer in hand, sank down onto the couch in Rufus' old cabin, a selection of newspapers spread out beside him. He popped the cap on his bottle, taking an appreciative swig before picking up the paper nearest him. The headliner was his new obsession, the untouchable Dick Roman, the leader of the Leviathans that had escaped Purgatory, piggybacking inside Castiel.

They'd been working for almost a year, trying to figure out a way to off the Leviathan. It seemed that they kept hitting dead ends. Bobby had died in the line of duty, and though they'd given him a hunter's burial, he'd dodged his reaper. His spirit was now bound to the flask Dean carried in his pocket.

He sighed, his eyes weary from reading. It seemed that was all he'd been doing lately. He missed Bobby. The man had always had the answers. Frank had been a poor substitution for the hunter, but he'd been collecting vital information for them before he'd been killed. He'd gotten too close. The boys were truly on their own this time, relying on their own knowledge and their own experience to save the world.

It had been weeks since they'd worked a normal job. Sometimes it seemed that everything else had faded. Their "normal" had taken a backseat, regardless of how many people were suffering. The sooner they defeated the Leviathan, the sooner they could get back to exorcisms, hauntings, and the like.

Dean's eyes lingered over the smiling picture of Dick Roman, taking up the largest panel of the folded newspaper. The familiar anger fueled the fire in his stomach as he stared, his mind replaying their botched rescue of Bobby, hearing the gunshot that had ended the older hunter's life. He'd sworn vengeance, justice for Bobby, and he was frustrated that they were no closer to fulfilling that promise.

His cellphone rang, shaking him out of his reverie. Sighing, he tossed the newspaper aside and flipped the phone open.

"'lo?" He greeted, his brows furrowing together as he listened. He sat forward, his elbows coming to rest on his knees. "What? Garth, slow down."

Sam closed the front door behind him with his foot, sitting the grocery bags down on the table. He grabbed his own beer and moved to perch on the arm of the recliner.

"That doesn't make sense." Dean rolled his eyes. The last time Garth had called, they'd ended up drunk, fighting a monster one could only see while smashed. It had been a wonder they'd survived. "Why are we just hearin' about it now?" He took another drink, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Garth, Garth...no. You know we're after Dick. We can't..." he frowned deeply. "No," he sighed, "you've never led us wrong before. We'll meet up." He snapped his phone closed, blinking slowly before looking over at Sam. "That was Garth."

"Um, yeah, Dean." He palmed his bottle. "What'd he want?"

"He wants us," he pointed between the two of them, "to uncover what he says is a twenty-eight year old government cover up."

"Which is?"

"A black mass the size of a small city in Maine." He downed the rest of his beer. "He...uh...he wouldn't say anything else."

"It doesn't have anything to do with the Leviathan."

Dean looked over at the newspapers and shook his head. "We're not really gettin' any closer to ending that either."

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room. After a few long moments, Dean pushed himself off the couch, snatching their bag from the corner.

"We're going?" Sam asked.

"Might as well," Dean growled, picking up some clean laundry from the hamper and roughly folding it, shoving it into the bag. "We can sit here diggin' for the next century, getting' nowhere, or we can go get our hands dirty...do something...anything." He turned to his brother. "We can do this," he pointed at the couch, at the walls where clippings had been pasted, "anywhere."

Sam offered him a small smile, joining him to pack. "I _was_ starting to go a little crazy myself." His back was to the make-shift pasted mural on the wall. "I mean, I do have Dick starin' at me all day."

Dean chuckled bitterly, taking special care to tuck the flask into the bag. "Then let's blow this popsicle stand, Sammy." He threw the bag over his shoulder and started out the door. "And grab the food, would ya?"

Used to a life style of packing light and moving at a moment's notice, it took only minutes for them to be on the road, heading toward Maine to meet up with Garth. It was a long drive, made mostly in silence. The boys had exhausted all the information they had on Dick Roman and his growing army, and no matter how many ways they spun it, they had no idea what was happening next. Clearing their heads with a fresh case seemed to be just what the doctor ordered. By the time they crossed the state line into Maine, they already seemed to be in lighter spirits.

Garth was waiting for them at in the parking lot of a rather seedy looking motel. Dean climbed out of the car, looking around, nodding slightly. "Dude,...what is it with you and hot-pillow motels?"

"People here mind their own business," Garth retorted, a smirk on his face. "Besides, for the story I've got, we're gonna want some privacy." He gestured for them to follow, leading them to the room at the end of the building.

It was difficult to take Garth as a serious hunter. His slight stature, skinny frame, and nerdy appearance did very little to inspire fear, but he had proven several times over that he had a keen mind and had a knack for pulling unusual cases out of thin air. He'd caught details about the last case they'd worked together that neither Winchester had seen. He knew that the janitor had been the ax-man's son. He'd gotten the little girl to speak about the death of her mother. He'd inadvertently carried the case, even if he hadn't physically killed the monster.

"So," Dean perched on the arm of the ratty sofa, "what have you found?"

Garth smiled widely, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. "It was an accident really. I was up here working on a case,...had a run in with some feds. I worked a little magic of my own. Turns out, there's some Area 51 shit happening here, and those agents the government swears they don't have...well, yeah, there's three patrols a day sitting outside this...black mass. Thing is, this mass is the size of a small city _and_ it appeared exactly twenty-eight years ago. They've got scientists studying it, but no one is getting anywhere. Any probe sent in disappears. No footage, nothing. Just gone."

Sam blinked, studying Garth closely. His brow furrowed. "You just...got federal agents to...talk to you about this?"

Garth shrugged. "People tell me things."

"What's this got to do with us?" Dean asked warily.

"I got called out for another case, so I need someone to take this one. The reason I called you guys...is because I went up to the patrol line, and it's not a black mass."

"It's not?"

"Obviously no one else can see it. There's land there, Dean. I could see a town sign."

"Meaning magic," Sam surmised.

The gangly hunter snapped his fingers, pointing at Sam. "My thoughts exactly. I mean, we don't know if there are people caught in there or anything...so I figured you were the guys to call." He smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. "Interested?"

Sam and Dean exchanged calculating glances. The case clearly piqued their interest. The only issue was deciding if they had time to take off.

"Oh, and to sweeten the deal," he paused, making sure he had their attention, "the only thing on the map in that area...is forest. There's never been a town there...at least not according to any document or map I've ever seen."

Dean pulled himself up to his full height, staring Garth down. "This had better be something."

"I'm sure it is." Garth reached behind him to the rickety beside table, grabbing his jacket. "Gimme a call when you figure it out. I'm curious."

"Where are you going?" Sam asked.

The young hunter sighed, stretching richly. "Georgia. My lady love has laid down the law after the shojo...nothing too dangerous. So, I'll stick with a haunting, you guys can go adventure." He handed Dean a folded map. "Everything's marked, best I can tell. So, um,...have fun, guys." He moved to the door.

Dean cleared his throat. "By the way, Garth," he waited for the hunter to turn back to him, offering him an awkward gaze, "you were right...about the flask. Bobby...Bobby's here...with the flask."

The smile faded from Garth's face. "I had hoped I was wrong."

Dean shook his head.

"What happened?"

"He uh," Sam scratched his eyebrow with this thumb, ending in an awkward shrug, "dodged his reaper. He's stuck...and not in a good way."

"Still helpin' us out where he can, but we're losin' 'im. He's a loose cannon. Learned to move things, so he's hid his flask a few times so he can get in...do things we can't..."

"And our leviathan friends?"

Dean nodded, conveying all he needed to.

"Well,...call me when..._if_ you need help." He offered a small, sad salute and continued to his car, started the engine, and pulled away, leaving the boys alone.

Dean spread the map out on the bed, immediately searching for what Garth had marked for them. Sam stood beside him, his hands on his hips as he studied the area.

"What do you think?" the younger Winchester asked.

"Might as well check it out." He folded up the map, slipped it in his jacket pocket and nodded toward the door. "After you."

"That's definitely not a black mass," Sam murmured, glancing out from around the tree trunk they were hiding behind. The promised patrol was less than a stone's throw away.

"Can you make out that sign?" Dean asked, squinting toward the area behind the patrol.

"We need to get closer."

"Dude, we dunno what happens when we cross over that barrier."

Sam lifted his hands, raising his eyebrows as he looked at his brother. Dean sighed, nodding.

"One, two, three."

"Dean, seriously? Always with the scissors."

"Dammit." Reluctantly, he passed the bag to his brother, taking a fortifying breath. He slipped out from behind the tree, keeping himself as low to the ground as he could while sprinting toward the boundary. He held his breath and launched himself forward, expecting to meet resistance. He found none, instead stumbling to an unsteady halt. He blinked, looking around him, taking mental stock of himself. He seemed to be unchanged and unharmed, and the area he stood in looked just the same as the one he'd left. Slowly, he turned on his heel, relieved to see Sam still watching from the shelter of the thick trunk. He motioned his brother over.

Sam folded his tall frame as close to the ground as he could and moved quickly toward Dean. He didn't pause when he heard the calls for him to halt from the officers on the road. The calls were silenced as soon as he landed beside his brother. He looked back, watching the agents sprint toward them only to stop short, their eyes blindly searching in front of them.

"Huh," Sam managed, curious.

"They obviously can't see us." Dean waved.

"I see that."

The older Winchester grinned. "Let's go."

Together, they turned, walking toward the marker they'd seen, pausing by the well manicured sign.

"Storybrook."

**tbc...**

**I hope you guys enjoy this. If you need perspective for setting:**

**SPN – Season 7, just after 'Of Grave Importance'**

**Once Upon a Time – just after 'The Stranger'**


	2. Welcome to Storybrook

**A/N: Happy to see that there's interest for this story :) I hope you continue to enjoy. Welcome to the adds and a huge thank you for those who have reviewed.**

**Now for the big one: Thank all of you who have made your way by. This chapter has been in the works since 2 days after I posted the first chapter. Real life gets in the way and sometimes things just do not go to plan, no matter how hard you try. I apologize to those of you who have been waiting, and I sincerely welcome your reviews and your readership. I promise, it will not be another seven months before the next chapter is posted.**

Sam and Dean walked down the road in silence, their eyes scanning the tree line for signs of life. There was no one, and it seemed to be too quiet. It took only a few moments for the town to come into view, a small, quaint little grouping of buildings that lined a quiet street.

"Like this isn't creepy," Dean mumbled, seemingly to himself. He adjusted the pack on his shoulder, glancing over to gauge Sam's reaction.

"Well, it's not empty." The younger brother nodded toward the diner as a young boy ducked in, followed by a woman with wavy dirty-blonde hair.

Dean grunted. "Ideas?"

"Well," Sam released a long sigh, scratching his head, "these people probably don't get many visitors..."

"And we'd scare 'em," Dean surmised.

"Or at least raise questions."

He sighed, staring off into the distance. "Think they have pie?"

Sam snorted, "what kind of diner doesn't have pie?"

A wide grin spread over the older Winchester's face and he started off toward the diner with a spring in his step. Sam scrambled to keep up, falling in step beside his brother.

"You're just gonna walk in?" Sam hissed as they neared the dinner, catching movement from the corner of his eye. The town was starting to wake for the day.

Dean smiled at a dark-haired woman as she stepped out of the building closest to them. She smiled back cautiously, climbing into her truck and pulling away. "We're in broad daylight, Sammy. If we wanted to sneak around, we shoulda waited. Just...act like a tourist."

He opened the diner door and they slid into a booth by the window. Their arrival drew the eyes of those in the diner, questioning and wary eyes, much as they'd been expecting. The waitress strode out from behind the counter, her high heels clicking in rhythm against the floor as she swaggered toward their table. An easy smile touched her ruby-painted lips as she pulled an order pad from her apron.

"What can I get you boys today?" she asked sweetly, glancing between the brothers with obvious interest.

Dean couldn't hide the smile that crept across his face and he threw her a flirty wink as Sam eyed the menu. She practically glowed under his attention. She lingered for a moment after she'd taken their orders, then spun on her heels and sauntered away.

"What was that?" Sam asked incredulously.

"What was what?" he returned, tearing his eyes away from the shapely, swaying hips.

"We don't even know if they're human, Dean. Remember the diner? With the demons?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he grunted, sitting up a little straighter. "You're a buzzkill, ya know that?"

"Yeah, well...one of us has to be." He looked around the diner, noting that the customers were still casting furtive glances their way. "Let's just focus on finding out what's going on here first."

"So..." Dean drummed his hands on the table, "giant magic bubble with people inside. I got nothin'."

"Hey." They looked up, seeing the blonde that had entered the diner with the boy walking up to their table. Her eyes seemed a little tired, but she held herself straight. No smile touched her face, making her seem stern and rigid. She pulled a chair from a nearby table, spinning it around and sliding into it with liquid ease.

"Um, hi," Dean answered, flashing her a smile.

"We don't get many visitors around here," she stated, pausing as the waitress brought the food to the table.

"Why's that?" Sam asked, "It seems like a nice enough town."

"Don't really know," she glanced back toward the boy at the booth she'd left. "People around here get curious, ya know."

The older Winchester offered a chuckle. "We get that."

"If you don't mind me asking,...what brings the two of you to Storybrook?"

Dean took a large bite of his pie and a self-indulgent smile spread across his face. "This. This is officially the reason we're here. We're not leavin' this diner, Sammy."

Shaking his head, Sam extended his hand toward their table guest. "Sam Smith," he offered as she shook his hand. "This is my brother, Dean."

"Emma," she responded in kind, "sheriff."

"Well, sheriff," Sam cleared his throat, "we're just here sightseeing. We actually didn't know this place was here."

She regarded him closely. "Sightseeing," she repeated.

"Hiked in," Dean chimed around the last bite of apple pie. He swallowed noisily, sitting back in his seat. "Is there a motel or something around here?"

She was silent for a long moment before she nodded, pushing out of her seat. "Granny runs an inn. Ruby'll help you." She gestured toward the waitress and nodded her head toward the boys. "You two have a nice stay."

They watched her until she slid back into her seat at the booth. The boy leaned over, whispering with her, casting a few glances their way. Sam lifted his glass, taking a thoughtful drink of water.

"Something seem..."

"Different about her?" Dean interjected. "Yeah."

"So we're stayin'."

"Oh yeah."

**8675309**

It didn't take long to settle into the little room overlooking the courtyard. The inn was quaint and quiet, and the window was ideal for watching the comings and goings of those in the town. Dean stared toward the Town Hall absently, trying to force the thoughts running rampant in his mind into some sense of order. Nothing about this place felt right, and he couldn't figure why. It had been unusual to be approached by the law so quickly after entering town, but given the circumstances, he couldn't blame the sheriff for checking in on them. After all, Storybrook couldn't get that many visitors, not with the barrier surrounding the town. He frowned. Why was the barrier there? Someone in the town had to be responsible for it.

He hardly noticed the beer that Sam pressed into his hand before plopping down unceremoniously on the edge of the nearest bed. "Well, I got nothin'." He took a long swig of his own, watching his brother stare out of the window.

"Mmm," Dean agreed, taking a drink.

"I mean, there's nothing in the local newspapers except,...well...dirt on the local sheriff. Looks like someone didn't want her in office." He reached behind him, pulling a well-used paper from the top of his bag. "It's a few weeks old,...Granny had a stack of 'em behind the desk."

"What do they say?" Dean asked, resting his back against the wall.

"Mostly just political mud-slinging, it looks like...before the election for sheriff..." he sat his beer on the floor, shaking the newspaper out. "Emma has a record. Looks like she had a kid while in jail. She looks young...really young." He shook his head. "This should have been sealed..."

"Like someone got it unsealed?"

Sam turned the paper around. "Maybe this Sidney Glass. He wrote the article."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Anything else in the newspapers?"

Sam scanned through a few, handing one to Dean. "Looks like the last sheriff died. Heart attack." He lifted his beer.

"That would explain the need for the election."

They fell silent as they continued to read, their beer slowly disappearing as the hour passed.

"This kid keeps showing up everywhere," Dean mumbled.

"What kid?"

"This Henry kid, the kid with the sheriff at the diner." He turned the paper toward his brother, showing him the picture on front. "Mine collapsed a few months back...he had to be rescued."

"Is that the sheriff's kid? The one she had in prison?"

"One and the same."

Sam's brow furrowed in thought. "She gave the kid up for adoption though, right? That's what the article said..."

"So, who's his mom now?" Dean finished.

"Think maybe this is all connected to the kid somehow?"

Dean cracked open another beer. "When is anything ever a coincidence in our line of work? Huh?" He knocked back a long, noisy swig.

Sam sighed, nodding, looking down at the picture of the young boy on the front page. "Alright then. The kid it is."

**tbc...**


	3. Mind Tricks

**A/N: Thank you all for your wonderful reviews. I'm so happy to see that you're interested! The new season of OUAT totally has me distracted! Sometimes I think writers actually _want_ to cater to us fanfic writers by putting so much of their own whumpage in! Additionally, I've been working nights...so sorry again about the delay. That should be over now (hopefully) and I'll (hopefully) have more time to write!**

"Who were they?" Henry asked as his mom returned to the table, glancing toward the brothers.

"They say they're here for the views, just hiked into town," Emma answered, taking an appreciative sip of her hot chocolate. Henry mimicked her motions, nursing his own cup.

"Were they telling the truth?"

She favored her son with a long look, sitting the mug deliberately back on the table. "No." She looked back over her shoulder. "I don't why they're here."

"People don't come to Storybrook," he pressed. "The curse...it keeps people here and it keeps people out."

"Is there a story in the book about brothers?" She turned her attention away from the two men, having watched Dean shovel another fork full of pie into his mouth. "At least that much was true."

He fell silent for a moment, going over the book in his mind. He'd practically memorized it over the months he'd been reading, trying to figure out who everyone in the town was supposed to be. He figured he'd gotten most of the people pinpointed by now. The evil queen had kept them to their strengths to keep the town running smoothly, of that he was sure. Slowly, he shook his head. "I...I don't think so."

She drained her cup. "Don't worry, kiddo. I'll keep an eye on them. Don't want them to cross Regina, anyway." She checked her gun and her watch. "C'mon, Henry. We need to get you back."

He finished his drink, wiping the whipped cream from his lips with the back of his hand. He pushed out of his chair, grabbing his backpack as he followed Emma from the diner.

**8675309**

Sam sat bolt upright in the bed, panting and covered in sweat. He looked around the room, seeing his brother asleep in the bed by the window. He willed his racing heart to slow, the pounding in his ears almost deafening. Confusion clouded his mind as his dream came flooding back to him, the details quickly disappearing as he grasped for understanding.

_"There's something different about you," the dark-haired woman spoke, a sneer curling into an evil smile on her pretty face. "Something...in your blood. I can _smell_ destiny on you."_

_ Sam struggled against the invisible bonds that held him against the wall, staring down into the eyes that seemed devoid of anything but glee at his plight. "Don't know...what you're...talkin' 'bout..." he wheezed._

_ "It doesn't matter," she continued, raising her hand toward his chest. "Your heart...your heart will make a very nice addition to my collection. I have...something special planned for you."_

_ Pain ripped through his chest and a tortured scream tore from his throat..._

The memory of his dream faded, leaving the hint of very real pain in its wake. He looked down at his chest, checking for marks, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding when he found nothing. He shook his head, knowing he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. Sighing, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and pushed himself upright, stretching the stiffness out of his back. He grabbed another beer and the nearest newspaper, sinking into the chair across the room and switching on the table lamp. A quick glance told him that Dean was still fast asleep, so he shook out the newspaper, settling in to read.

It took tremendous effort for him to concentrate, finding it difficult to shake the woman's face from his mind. The memory left his stomach unsettled, a sensation he hadn't felt in a very long time.

Long minutes passed and he placed his empty bottle on the table beside him, tossing his newspaper aside. Sighing, he reached for the last one and froze as he found the woman's face on the front. He sat forward, quickly angling the light toward the paper, his eyes scanning the text underneath the large picture. "_Local candidate for sheriff, Emma Swan, rescues Mayor Regina Mills from fire."_

"She's the mayor," he breathed, lowering the paper slowly into his lap. He ran his hand raggedly over the stubble on his cheek, his mind racing. It wasn't the first time he'd seen things before they'd happened, but his visions had long been dormant. Since they'd killed Azazel, he had needed demon blood to bring the visions forward again. He'd been dry since they'd faced Lucifer. Lucifer. He paused, another thought taking precedence. He hadn't seen Lucifer since they'd crossed into Storybrook. All was quiet, for the first time since he'd gotten his soul back.

He looked toward his brother, conflicted. It could have been any number of things that had brought the mayor's face to his mind. He could have seen her picture somewhere in the town on their walk in. Lucifer's silence, on the other hand, could be yet another tease. _He_ could have planted the image in his head. Silently, he decided against waking his brother, soothing the racing thoughts away with logic. The pain he'd felt with the dream had had him spooked.

The first rays of dawn peeked over the horizon only a few hours later, and restless, Sam changed into his joggers, anxious to clear his mind. Hastily, he scribbled a note on a torn section of paper, leaving it on Dean's beside table, easily visible for when he woke. He left the room, nodding to Granny as he headed out the door.

The early risers in town regarded him as he jogged down the street, and he nodded to them in greeting as he passed. He could feel their eyes on his back, slightly increasing his pace as he left the town center. Once outside of the town, he found a turn off onto a wooded trail, and took it, his feet welcoming the cushion of the dirt and moss. The trees overhead repelled the light, casting everything around him into dark shadows.

He'd travelled about a mile before coming to a clearing by a river. An old bridge ran across the width, joining the main road on either side. The sign said "toll bridge," which someone had painted a red "r" on, making it a "troll bridge." Slowly, he walked down to the water's edge, letting himself enjoy the morning, the way the mist hung low over the water. It was peaceful. With a bit more light in the clearing, he could appreciate his surroundings, noting how ancient the trees looked. This area seemed almost untouched by man.

Stretching, he turned on his heel and trudged up the hill leading to the bridge. This seemed like the perfect place to take a break and clear his mind. He let the cool mountain air wash over him, breathing deeply and enjoying the quiet. He walked past the troll bridge sign, resting his hand on the railing across the bridge.

It took only seconds for images to flood his mind. Another dark-haired woman dressed in clothes he hadn't seen outside of history books, led a blond man onto the bridge, except it seemed older and in dire need of repair. The railing was gone, replaced instead by crumbling stone work. Gasping, Sam drew his hand away, staring across the empty bridge. As soon as the images had found him, they were gone again.

He paused. He had seen the woman before, when he and Dean had first walked into town. Her hair was shorter, but there was no mistaking her face. Shaken, he raked his hand raggedly through his sweat-dampened hair, trying to piece together what was happening. He stared out over the water and his vision swam. Surely, this had to be one of Lucifer's games, playing with his head. It had to be.

Deciding it was less safer than he'd imagined to be on his own, he started back toward the town, abandoning his jog in favor of a sprint. His head-long pace brought him out of the forest and back onto pavement within moments. Dawn had broken and the town was awake, sending him dashing headlong into what seemed like a sea of swimming faces. He drew back, reeling.

"Hey," someone said cautiously, approaching him, "are you okay?" She sounded worried.

He tried for force his eyes to focus, watching her in confusion. It was the woman he'd seen on the bridge. "Yeah...I'm fine," he managed, drawing a small, awkward smile to his lips.

"You don't look fine," she stated, her brows drawn together as she took a step closer. "Do you need me to call somebody?"

He let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "Just pushed too hard with the run, I think. I'm just around the corner...at Granny's. I'll be okay." He smiled again. "Thanks...Thanks, though."

She studied him in silence for a long moment before she finally nodded. "I'm Mary Margaret."

"Sam," he returned, shaking her outstretched hand.

"Well, Sam," she sighed, opening the truck door, "I'm late for class and you need to go lie down." She slid into the driver's seat. "Teacher's orders."

"Yes, ma'am." He closed the door behind her and waved as she pulled away. Avoiding the probing eyes of those on the street, he turned toward Granny's.

Dean was up when he returned to the room, freshly showered and dressed, already well into the day's first beer.

"You look like hell," the older brother greeted as Sam closed the door behind him.

"Feel like it, too," he confessed, sinking into the nearest seat. "Something's...something's not exactly right here."

Dean looked up from the laptop, "you find somethin' on your run, did you?"

Sam let loose a long, heavy sigh, still wrestling with his mind. What should he tell his brother and what shouldn't he?

"'Kay, Sammy, you're kinda startin' to worry me...with the long, pale face and that constipated look you're wearin'..."

"I think Lucifer's messing with my head, man," he finally spat in frustration. He sat forward, his elbows rested on his knees, his head in his hands. "I dunno. I haven't seen him since yesterday, but last night...I had a pretty vivid dream. This woman...she had me pinned...somehow...against the wall..."

"Sounds kinda kinky, Sammy. I wouldn't be complainin'."

"Dammit, Dean! I'm trying to be serious here." He pushed out of the chair, pacing.

"Sorry," Dean took a swig of his beer, sitting forward to listen. "So, this woman who had you against the wall..."

"I woke up in pain," he picked up one of the newspapers, "she was reaching toward my chest."

"And it was a dream...We deal with these kinds of things all the time, Sammy."

"Yeah." He turned the newspaper around, showing his brother the picture. "Her name is Regina Mills, the mayor of Storybrook. Why would I dream of her when I had never seen her before?" He tossed the paper toward his brother, resuming his pacing. "And when I was running,...I saw people on the bridge who couldn't be there. There was a woman and a man, and the clothes they were wearing...he looked like some sort of noble, maybe...carrying a sword. Thing is...I ran into that _same_ woman on my way back here. Her name is Mary Margaret and she's a school teacher." He drug his hand across the stubble on his cheeks. "If this isn't some game Lucifer's playing, then...I don't know what this is. I wasn't even gonna say anything."

"No,...no. I mean, it's good to know what's goin' on in your head."

"_I _don't even know what's going on in my head anymore." He sounded tired.

"We'll figure it out, Sammy," Dean stood, moving to his brother. "What do you _think_ this is? Does it...feel like something _he'd_ do?"

"Honestly, Dean...it feels like...visions." He shook his head. "If it is...then...that means something is definitely off here."

"Don't you need demon blood..."

"I thought so," Sam interjected.

"Maybe it's something here, then. Maybe whatever this bubble thing is...it's messing with your head." He clapped his brother on the shoulder. "It'll be alright, Sam. We'll figure it out. We always do."

**tbc...**


End file.
